The Zugzwang Effect
by Kristopher Robin
Summary: Book 7: Hermione Granger wasn't around when Dobby bailed Harry and Ron out of Malfoy Manor. Draco Malfoy has enough on his head, but he can't resist trying to protect Hermione, as well. Are there things going on in the Manor that neither of them are aware of? Will Hermione succeed in relocating her boys, and will Draco succeed in relocating home?
1. Chapter 1

**1**

I remember it hurt, seeing her hurt. My father is giving me a serious talk on the gravity of my most recent errors, but all I can think of is the broken girl asleep on my bed upstairs. Father doesn't know that I've moved the girl to a more comfortable place. Father and I now function on a need-to-know basis.

When he's done reprimanding me (or, rather, when he can't come up with more ways to call me a disgrace to the Manor) he leaves the study. Three minutes later, I leave it too, and walk up to my room. The Manor is empty, making me wish for the house elves to wait on me, just so that the place would feel alive. So that _I_ would feel alive.

Instead, I knock on the door of my bedroom, giving the girl a chance to get decent if she's awake. I open the out to find out she isn't. Awake, that is. She is wearing a crumpled green collared t-shirt, long blue jeans and sport shoes. She's decent enough.

Outside, the rain pelts down on the Manor. I kneel against the only window in the room and press my cheek to the curtains. I don't need to draw the curtains to feel the rain. Because it is raining, I don't cry. Not because it is ridiculously clichéd to cry with the skies, but because when it rains, it means my job of crying has been taken over by someone far more efficient. So I let the skies cry for me.

When she stirs, I jolt awake from my semi-slumber. My neck cricks when I turn to look at the bed – apparently falling asleep at my desk chair wasn't the wisest choice.

I watch her sit up, rub her eyes and look around, not noticing me immediately. Her usually fierce red hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her legs fold beneath her as she leans against the headboard. She looks involuntarily ready for battle.

When she spots me, she doesn't react. Instead she pulls herself out of my bed and searches her pocket, presumable for her wand. She doesn't have it – it's in the front of my robes.

"How did I get here?" she asks. Her voice is cold; I'd expect no less. "I was put in the cellar, wasn't I?"

"They had to use the cellar for other things, so they moved you up." I try to act indifferent, but I'm still sitting down and I'm still looking at her, trying to figure out when my foolishness began getting the better of me. There are dozens of things around the room that would immediately tell her that this room is mine.

"Am I to believe that no other rooms in the Manor were empty? And what are you, my watchdog?"

I don't reply.

"Where are Harry and Ron?"

I look away.

"Fine, then, if this is how it's going to work." She stomps to my door and wrenches at its handle. It doesn't budge. I locked it before I fell asleep, and it will only open at a tap from my wand. She turns around, frustration on her face. "I want to get out of here."

"Well, I can't let you."

She shrieks.

"Be quiet," I snap. "Nobody knows you are still here."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Then why am I still here?"

"If you were in the cellar they'd be torturing you by now. Killing you." I watch her shudder. She walks back to my bed, sits down at the edge and hunches her shoulders. Her bangs fall over her face, and I'm sure I can hear her sniffle. I'm in awe of the sight in front of me. Hermione Granger, broken.

"Do they think I've gotten away?" she asks. Her voice is thick now.

"Presumable," I reply.

"Won't they wonder how? I'm wandless."

"I took your wand from you only when I moved you up. and besides, you're the brightest witch alive. You'd have figured something out."

She turns her head in my direction and studies me. I study her, too. Her forehead and arms have bloody slashes on them. There is a thin lining of sweat on her face. Her hair looks stringy and her clothes look grimy.

"Should I get some meds for you? Or do you want to fix your scars by yourself?"

Now she's giving me the silent treatment.

"You've been on the run," I comment.

"You haven't been eating," she shoots back.

I snort. "That's hardly important."

"Where are Harry and Ron?"

"I am not at liberty to –"

"Are they safe?" The second question is seemingly more important than the first.

"Considerably."

Her brown eyes land on mine, _delving_. She's always shared that eerie gift with Albus Dumbledore. My stomach turns at the thought.

"You helped them escape." It isn't a question. She looks both hopeful and disgusted.

"I did my best. They will have to see themselves through the rest."

Now, she falls silent. It seems all she cared about was her two friends reaching safety. I find that hard to believe. Leaning forward in my chair, I ask, "Where do you want to go?"

"Home," she replies immediately. Then, she gives me a dry laugh. I don't particularly like the sound of that laugh. "Except I don't know where home is, anymore."

I fish into the front of my robes and fetch her wand. I throw it to her and she catches it. "Go find it," I tell her.

She stands up and regards me gingerly. "Chances are I won't get far."

"Then you can come back." I surprise myself with my words, but she looks unfazed. Turning on the spot, Hermione Granger disapparates.

I take in her absence, and then I crawl into my bed. It smells of the woods and restlessness and her, and I fall asleep.

I'm sure it's midnight when I next wake up. in my hazy eyesight, I see Hermione sitting cross-legged on the floor next to my bed, leaning against the wall. Asleep.

I turn over and look at the drawn curtains. It isn't raining, so I cry.

**More to come! I miss the fanfiction world. R&R, lovelies. :***

**Kristopher**


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

I wake up when the sun reaches the highest point in the sky. Hermione begins to stir, so I take my clothes into the attached bathroom and change. When I come out, my skin is clammy and I feel uncomfortable. I don't usually change in a place that isn't my room.

Hermione is now awake and pacing. "I'm sorry I came back," she bites out. She looks more harried than she did last night, I notice.

"Do you want a change of clothes?" I ask. "I can ask the house elves to arrange for that." She just looks at me and takes a deep breath, as if she can't believe what I've just said. I remember her obsession with elfin freedom, and frown. "I can have it arranged," I amend.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" She sounds like she needs time to think, so I back out of my room and close the door behind me. I don't lock it, and I don't tell her not to come out. I trust she won't, unless she has a death wish.

There's another meeting in the dining room, two hours after noon. This time, the Dark Lord does not attend it. I can understand he has more thrilling things to do than to attend unnecessary meetings held by indecisive people. I can still hear his rage from last night echoing between the walls of the room I'm stuck in. That very same rage is present in our gathering today. Rage because we have been lied to, defied, by one of our very own. Rage because Harry Potter had slipped out of Voldemort's fingers one more time.

I take myself by surprise when I think The Dark Lord's name. I look around, expecting one of the Death Eaters to pounce on me for thinking it. _Voldemort_, I repeat mentally, rebelliously. It just makes me feel pathetic, so I tune back in.

"An imposter is in our midst," Mulciber is saying. He's standing at the head of the table, opposite my father. I'm somewhere in the middle, sinking into my seat. "And we must get rid of him, find him and castrate him! Who dare defy the Dark Lord, who dare?"

There is a chorus of agreement around the table. I shout out my cheers too. Father sees me doing this and signals for me to stay quiet. When I look around, I notice Severus Snape watching us carefully. His eyes flit back to Mulciber and he behaves as though he saw nothing. I do the same.

"I brought you lunch," I announce, entering my room with a platter of food.

Hermione is sitting on the floor in the middle of my room, her arms folded. I'm relieved she's still here. I set the food down in front of her and lean against the wall opposite. "So what are you going to do?" I ask as she digs in.

She takes her time swallowing a piece of croissant. "I'm going to have to track them down. Don't you have an inkling where they might have escaped to?"

I shake my head. "Where did you go, yesterday?"

"To this… forest, where we had stayed for a few nights. I camped there once as a child." She doesn't seem too comfortable giving me details. That's understandable – I'm surprised she's even eating the food I gave her.

I try picturing Hermione as a child on a camping trip, but it's hard to imagine her without a wand and wisdom in her eyes.

"They weren't there?"

She frowns from behind a cauldron cake. "Isn't that obvious?" I conclude she's ravenous and decide to let her eat. When she's done cleaning the plate, she says, "Does nobody in the Manor suspect I'm still here? Who's here, now? I heard noises."

Apparently Hermione Granger doesn't do one question at a time. "The usual crowd. Nobody suspects a thing – there are more important matters to discuss."

She snorts. "I can imagine that."

I feel mildly irritated at her obvious undermining of our jobs. "The escape of The Chosen One just happens to be more attention calling than a lost – "

"Mudblood?"

I wince. "I wasn't about to say that."

We were getting along. Now we're not.

There is a very long moment of silence, in which I walk to my desk, sit down and flip through some issues of the Daily Prophet.

"If you're a Death Eater too now, why did you help Harry and Ron escape?"

I find it difficult to blink as I contemplate her question. "Maybe," I say slowly, "Maybe I'm just a Death Eater by name."

"You're not going to tell them what you've done?"

"They know."

"All of them? Even Voldemort?"

I flinch. "Not all. Especially not him."

Another bout of silence drags on. I'm attentive enough to know that she hasn't moved from her spot on the floor.

"You could run away, you know," she says, her voice but a whisper.

I don't move a muscle. "What makes you think I want to leave my home?"

"I doubt you consider the Manor your home."

"It's the closest I'll ever get."

"You could get closer."

She's gone too far (oh, the irony), and she senses it. We spend the rest of the day in silence.

Father calls me down for dinner at half past seven. There is a place set for Mother at the table, which calls for a dull ache in my chest. I assume the house elves are not aware of what happened last night, after everyone was gone. We eat a meat loaf, boiled lettuce and barbecued fish. The food is bland to my tongue. I can't have eaten faster if I tried.

When the leftovers from the plates disappear, I make to stand up. My father gives me a stern look, and I return to my seat.

"There are things we need to discuss," he says.

"I bet there are," I snap.

"You will respect me, young man." His voice is commanding. It doesn't scare me, but it reprimands me. If I want to live here, there are some rules I will have to abide by. _You can run away_, Hermione tells me once more in my head. I push her voice away.

He begins talking, assuming I'll begin listening. He assumes right.

"What happened yesterday was unfortunate." _Which part?_ I want to ask him. _The part where we lost family, or the part where Voldemort lost his pray?_ Knowing him, it's the latter. "But we must move past it. There are questions floating around as to your Mother's whereabouts. If you are faced with such a question, avoid it at all costs. Do not lie. Do not speak the truth. You must avoid it – there are more pressing matters at hand."

I can feel my fist trembling, my leg shaking uncontrollably. I struggle to control it. I fail.

"There will be a mission for you soon," Father continues. I decide to stop calling him that. "And I expect you to carry it out with all the dignity we have left. You failed the Dark Lord once, Draco. You will not do it again."

"What am I expected to do?" I spit out.

"The nature of the mission will be revealed to you when situations call for it." Lucius leans back in his chair and stretches his arms over his head. Is the conversation over?

I push my chair back roughly from the table and stand up. My fists are clenched as I look down at him. "What did you do with her body?"

He lowers his hands, reproach seeping back into his eyes. I inherited the white-blond hair, the thin ghostly face and the snarky personality. But I did not inherit his ever detached eyes.

_"What did you do with her body?"_ I yell, forgetting for a moment that at this volume, Hermione will be able to hear everything I say.

"It has been taken care of," Lucius chokes out.

I'm filled with so much of rage that I can jinx him to oblivion. Instead, I channel my anger into stomping my way up to my room.

Her scars have begun bleeding again. She's tried stemming it with spells, but her anxiety is getting in the way of her magic. Hermione is sitting on my bed, holding her arm out over the floor, immediately getting rid of any fallen drops of blood with her wand. I can't handle the inconvenience anymore.

"Just let me do it," I say impatiently.

She glares at me. "I told you I'm fine. It'll heal."

"It won't heal." My fingers are tapping incessantly against my desk – I haven't exactly worked off my rage yet. "Just let me get it over with. _For heaven's sake._"

"Fine." She's behaving like she's letting me borrow a couple of million galleons from her account at Gringotts.

I pull myself away from the desk (I've been spending increasing amounts of time at my desk over the past two days) and approach her. "Give me your wand," I say.

She looks at me suspiciously. "Where's yours?"

"Your boyfriend thieved it."

"You'll have to specify," she comments dryly. I fight back a smile at the unintentional joke as she hands me her wand. It feels alien in my fingers. I look down at her arm, which she's hidden behind her back. I look at her pointedly, and she sighs.

"Just… do it slowly, okay? It still stings."

"Okay," I breathe, lifting her arm slowly. What I see makes bile rise in my throat – _Mudblood_, carved into her skin, outlined by her scarlet blood. I nearly drop her arm and step away. Nearly. "What spell do I use?" I ask her, trying to stop my voice from wobbling. This close to her, I feel strangely vulnerable.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she tells me.

I point her wand at her arm, supporting the latter with my left hand. "_Vulnera Sanentur_," I repeat, closing my eyes and concentrating on her wound. She sucks in a deep breath pulls her hand away from mine, and I realize I've been holding it for too long.

"It's healed," she says blandly. "Thank you."

"Sure." I give her back her wand and get back to my desk chair. She falls asleep on the bed. I don't fall asleep at all.

**Credits to .com for helping me with minor details I'm too lazy to recollect from the books. R&R, darlings! :***

**Kristopher**


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The next morning, she has something to say to me.

"Tell me exactly what happened when Harry and Ron escaped," she instructs. She's sitting on my bed and I'm sitting on my chair, still trying to figure out how I forced her into my routine.

"You know most of it," I say sparingly. I don't want to outline it all, because memories of what came after haunt me every waking second.

"No, I don't." She's far too excited to get impatient with me, and for a moment I see the Hermione Granger who always had her hand up first in classes.

I blow air out of my nostrils and lean back. "Fine. When Bellatrix was trying to get the truth out of you – " she flinched, fingering her _Mudblood _scar absentmindedly "Harry and Ron were in the cellar. We heard noises coming from down there, so Pettigrew was sent down to check them."

"Luna and Dean were there too?"

"Yes, and the wandmaker and the goblin."

"Bellatrix sent for the goblin. That's the last thing I remember."

_I remember it hurt, seeing you hurt._ "The goblin covered for you. He said the sword was a fake, so you were free to go. But you had already passed out by then, and Greyback was indignant, so we agreed to put you down in the cellar. That's when that… that free elf appeared."

"_Dobby_?"

"The very one. He crashed the chandelier to the floor and used his magic against the Death Eaters." I see tears in Hermione's eyes. I'm sure if they are tears of gratitude or fear, but I don't want her to cry. She has no right, _crying_. She hasn't lost half as much as I had.

"When do you factor into all of this?" she asks, confused.

"Petrificus Totalus."

"Excuse me?"

"I cast it against Greyback, Mulciber, everyone around me," I explain. "I made sure I didn't hit Harry and Ron."

"Where were Luna and Dean? And Ollivander?"

"Gone, presumably. Harry didn't notice what I was doing, and he and Ron together disarmed us. I couldn't hit Bellatrix in time, but I used the spell against myself before my wand was taken away."

"You couldn't hit Bellatrix in time _for what_?"

"She threw her knife. Then I lost the wand, and it felt like the entire place blew up. They disapparated, I just don't know where to."

Hermione takes deep breaths, refusing to look me in the eye. "Who… who did Bellatrix throw her knife to?"

"I don't know."

"_In whose direction did it go?_"

"Their direction. Harry's and Ron's. Their general direction." I run a hand through my hair, upset by this conversation. "I don't _know_, Hermione. This is all I know."

"Okay," she says finally.

I turn around in my chair, resisting the urge to hit my head against the oak surface of my desk and yell. "Aren't you going to search for them anymore?" I ask, mostly to get rid of the ominous mood hanging over us.

"Draco, did something happen… later that night?"

I refuse to look at her. I refuse to breathe, to blink, to swallow. I refuse to answer. _She knows._ I don't know how much she knows, but she has a general idea that can't be too far off from the mark. I want to get out of this room, but there's nowhere else I can go.

"You can talk to me."

_Do not lie. Do not speak the truth. You must avoid it – there are more pressing matters at hand._ "No, I can't."

"Is this some sort of Death Eater top secret?"

_No._ "Yes."

I escape the room at five in the evening. I want to go for a walk, to concentrate on something that isn't Mother or Hermione or Voldemort. But the moment I step out of my room, Lucius corners me.

"Is there anyone in there?" he asks menacingly as I quickly close the door to my room. Hermione is in the bathroom, having a shower. I've casted the _Muffliato_ spell over my door, but I can never be too sure with Lucius.

"No," I say cuttingly. "I'm going out now. _If you don't mind_."

I walk towards the stairs, trying not to worry too much that I haven't locked my bedroom door, but Lucius doesn't seem too bothered about that anymore. "Stop," he commands. "You're not going out, now. You have to take your things, fly to Hogwarts and do what the Dark Lord tells you to do."

I whip around. "The Dark Lord is at _Hogwarts?_" Does that mean the Potter boy and his sidekick are at Hogwarts, too?

"That really isn't the matter at hand," Lucius says impatiently. "The Death Eaters have begun gathering at Hogsmeade. The final battle is but around the corner, and you have to be there for it."

"_Why?_"

"You do not question the Dark Lord's orders, Draco!" Lucius roars. I want to roar back, but I don't know what to rebut with. I'm brimming with questions that no one can answer. Lucius takes a step towards me, his eyes narrowing and burning with anger. "He has killed your mother. Haven't you learnt your lesson yet, Draco? _Haven't you?_"

Now I find something to throw back at him. _"You killed my mother!"_ I yell, blind with fury.

"Irrelevant." He flicks the accusation away like he would bat at a fly. "The bottom line is, Narcissa Malfoy is dead. All thanks to your folly."

"No," I back away from him, towards my room. "_No._ It was not my fault. It can't be a _fault_ when what I did was right."

"You did the wrong thing, Draco."

I laugh a low, mirthless laugh. He's made me like this. He's made me a monster. "No," I say. "You're on the wrong side, Lucius."

I wrench open my bedroom door, stumble in and close it behind me. I hear a shriek and turn around to see Hermione Granger standing on my bed, a towel wrapped around herself and her wand held in her hand. "I heard shouting," she explains, throwing me the wand without question.

I catch it, point it towards the door and whisper, "_Colloportus_." I know Lucius won't bother trying to come in. I can't remember the last time he's seen the inside of my room.

Hermione steps down from the bed. Her exposed shoulders and arms are glistening with water, and as she places her right palm on my shoulder, some of the droplets seep through my robes. She's heard everything. I expect her to offer words of comfort, but instead she walks to the only window in the room and wrenches the curtains open. It's a sunny day outside. It would be okay to cry.

I don't.

Her near nakedness does not bother me. She studies me as if she's meeting me for the very first time. Her red hair is tied up in a tight bun and her eyes are hooded. She isn't clutching at her towel self-consciously. She doesn't have her wand in her hand, but her fists are clenched. _Involuntarily ready for battle._

"We're leaving," I say, and she understands.

**Just to clarify, the Hermione Granger in this book is based off the book version of her, not Emma Watson. That should explain her red hair. She also has freckles. Thought I'd throw that in there. R&R! :* **

**The Muggle Dict: ****_Colloportus is a charm that is used to lock or seal doors so that they cannot be opened manually. Countercharm: Alohomora. _**

**Kristopher**


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Getting out of my bedroom without being spotted is an easy affair – we just decide to slither out of the window. Later that evening, just as the sun is beginning to set, I go downstairs and tell Lucius that I will be ready to leave for Hogwarts tomorrow morning. He behaves like the entire argument between us didn't happen, which just makes me angrier. I want to set him on fire just to watch him burn.

Instead, I go back upstairs.

At eleven-thirty, we make our move. My father is still awake in his study, so we need to be quiet. I've removed the _Muffliato_ and _Colloportus_ charms off of my room. No one should suspect Hermione is with me.

She pulls open the curtains. She pushes the windows outwards and throws a leg out, sitting against the ledge. She doesn't turn around and ask me if I'm ready, because she knows I'll say no. _I'm not ready. I can't be ready._ I need the help she's unintentionally giving me. She pulls her other leg out too, and then leaps out. She has the wand. She cushions her fall.

She cushions my fall.

We are stealthy. I make the gates open for us noiselessly. We sneak out. We crouch against the wall and look around, and when it's clear, we run.

We make it to the town in approximately nine minutes. That's nine minutes of feet hitting pavement. Nine minutes of wordless, empty silence. And I can't shake off the feeling that I'm meeting this Hermione Granger for the very first time.

"Tell me when it's safe to disapparate," she whispers after nine minutes.

We've reached the town, and there is no one around. No muggles. No wizards. "It's safe," I whisper back.

We step off the pavement and onto the road, probably to feel like we're beginning a journey. The journey began when I moved her from the cellar to my room, but I don't tell her that. She grips my hand tightly, because there's one wand and there's two of us.

"Where to?" I ask.

She doesn't tell me. She turns on the spot, pushes me through squeezing darkness and shows me.

* * *

We're at the foot of a hill. Heathrow Hill, according to her. I don't know where we are, but I feel close to Hogwarts. It's the type of hill that could be found close to Hogwarts.

She's packed a tent and so have I. We set up our tents on either side of a bonfire we've built in the middle. She performs a ritual where she walks around our tents in a wide circle and mutters spells under her breath. She complains about her wand, which makes me wonder for the very first time if it really is her wand. I know she isn't performing a ritual, but it's easier to think of it as a ritual than to acknowledge the fact that we can be tracked down.

We left no traces behind. We covered up our tracks – she's good at that sort of thing. I can imagine her skills have been used, in Potter's prior endeavors, but I like to think of it as a first time for the both of us.

As the night stretches on, I begin to feel both thrilled and apprehensive.

"What now?" I ask her. We're sitting at the base of our respective tents, up till now, in silence.

"I have to try to find them," she says.

I tell her about my 'mission'.

"So Volde – "

I clear my throat violently, cutting her off. We both look around ourselves and shuffle our feet against the ground.

"Sorry." Her cheeks are pink – the night is cold. "So You-Know-Who is at Hogwarts?"

"It seems like it."

"And you're supposed to be there too?"

I nod.

"But you're not going to go."

I stretch out my arms and look away from her. She lets out a gasp that sounds wrangled with disbelief.

"You _are_ going to go!"

"Well, eventually, yes?" I wrinkle my forehead. "I don't see why it has to be this soon. He hasn't found Potter yet, and he's been off doing his own stuff for a very long time. He's searching for something." I look back and watch her brooding. "Do you know what he's searching for?"

She looks taken aback that I've asked her this. "I don't know. Do I?"

I roll my eyes.

"If you were going to go ahead with the bloody mission, why did you bother running away?" she asks matter-of-factly. Now we're back to classroom Hermione.

"Because I don't want to go immediately," I say slowly. "I want to bide my time. Wait for Potter to show himself, for You-Know-Who to find him. And when the war actually begins, I'll fight too."

Hermione has disgust in her eyes. She's disgusted with me. "I shouldn't have expected any more," she says shrewdly. "Always knew you were a coward, Malfoy."

"What?" I snap.

"You're going to _bide your time_, aren't you? Wait for all the hue and cry to die down. For Harry to be found, tortured, and when he's about to be killed you're going to fight off the good and make sure this time, this time he really, truly dies."Her voice is thick and she sounds choked, but she won't let her tears fall. "I don't know what I was thinking, trusting you. I thought maybe you were sorry, maybe you were simply being someone you were forced to be. I thought your Mother's death would have meant _something_ – "

"STOP!" I yell. She jerks back, as if my voice burnt her. I get to my feet, give her one last hard look, and walk into my tent.

* * *

I don't get any sleep. When the dials on my old-fashioned watch tell me it's four-fifteen in the morning, I get out of my tent. It's pitch black outside, the moonlight making the grass around us look silvery grey. The bonfire has died out, and beyond that… my eyes fall on Hermione's tent.

I step around the burnt up wood and approach her tent. The zip has been pulled only halfway down, so I pull it back up and step in, being sure not to make a sound.

Her tent is spacious on the inside. There's a kitchenette, a carpet and a couch, and a bunk bed. She's asleep on the couch (I have come to realize that Hermione can fall asleep during the roughest of situations). Her scarred arm hangs down from the edge of the couch, her fingers curled as if she's holding on to something. I imagine the ginger boy sitting on the floor in front of her, his fingers interlocked with hers.

She belongs to a different universe. A different time-zone. She's on the right side by choice, I'm on the wrong side by force. There is a lot I didn't say when we were speaking earlier. I didn't disclose the reason I wanted to bide my time; I was hoping if I was away for long enough, if I was away _with her_ for long enough, I'd pluck up the courage to go against Lucius and fight with her. I knew her people would protect me if they believed in my earnestness. All I needed to do was give her my word, and have her brown-black eyes believing in me.

We both want the same thing, I try telling myself. We're both the same people on the inside, all differences aside. I repeat this to myself over and over again as I take the ginger boy's place on the floor in front of her.

I don't interlock my fingers with hers, but I want to.

* * *

**That's enough drama for one night. Drop a review and tell me what you think! 3**

**Kristopher **


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

I wake up to the smell of roasting… something.

I'm still in Hermione's tent. When I climb out, the bright sun almost blinds me. Thinking of battles and good and evil in the middle of the summer seems far too extreme right now.

"Good morning," Hermione greets me lightly. She's at the bonfire (which is lit again – this girl is a genius) with her back turned to me.

"Good morning," I say sleepily, and then check myself. "Are you sure it's still morning?"

"It is." She holds up her right wrist, where my old-fashioned watch is now sitting. "Nicked it when I woke up. Sorry, not sorry."

I hold back a chuckle, slightly disconcerted that she hasn't turned around to look at me yet. Is she embarrassed that we technically shared a room for a few hours? Was she scared when she woke up with me just a foot away? I walk around to the other side of the bonfire and sit cross-legged opposite her. Her head is bowed – yup, she's avoiding me.

"What's cooking?"

She grimaces and gives me a discreet look from the corner of her eyes. "What's burning, more like. It's a squirrel, bless its soul."

"Smartest witch alive doesn't know how to cook?" _Now_ I chuckle. "Legendary."

"Watch your mouth. And don't be sexist unless you wish to go hungry for the rest of forever." She sounds like she's had this conversation before.

I can't resist one final jab. "'For the rest of forever'? Sounds mature."

I receive a tiny burn on my forefinger for that, reminding me that from the two of us she's the only one with a wand. I chew at my finger and glare at her, hard enough that she eventually looks me in the eye. She's grinning a smug grin, I'm glaring. It feels like another day back at Hogwarts.

"Listen," I say, still holding her gaze. "I'm sorry about last night."

"So am I." She doesn't look away. "I went too far."

"I shouldn't have yelled, though. I owe you a lot."

"I shouldn't have brought her up."

I scratch at the back of my neck. I'm not allowed to talk to any of the Death Eaters about Mother. Am I allowed to talk to Hermione about her? "It's okay, Herm – Granger. It's fine." I think back to last night, when she called me _Malfoy_. We're still on second name terms, then, and I don't want to stray from that.

I look around us. There's no one in sight for a good long way, and I can see a couple of deserted row houses in the distance. I nod my head in their general direction. "Muggle repellent charms?"

"Every single one I know," she says, hardly keeping the pride out of her voice. A few minutes later, she removes the burnt animal from over the fire and discards it to the ground. "We'll have to go without breakfast," she concludes.

I run a hand through my hair. "Do we have to? There must be a town around here."

Hermione fidgets, and I just _know_ she's going to say something self-righteous. "I'm not comfortable with stealing. Even if I leave money in its place. It still feels wrong, like we're exploiting magic."

"That's not necessary," I say easily.

"Nobody serves coffee to disillusionment charms, Malfoy."

"We don't need disillusionment charms." I smirk. "We just need distorting ones."

* * *

Initially, she's against it. But when I bring up the option of stealing, she reluctantly gives in. And when we finally do get around to distorting our appearances, she seems to be having… fun.

It takes us long to finalize our new looks.

I now have bronze coloured hair that's hanging to my neck. My nose is tiny and button-like, and my eyes have been changed from grey to blue. The rest of my features are the same but she assures me she can hardly recognize me. That must count for something.

In turn, Hermione's braid is now light brown. She has long nails and even gave herself thick-rimmed glasses. She looks trendy. We look trendy together.

The moment we step out of our boundaries, the gloom sets in. I pull my jacket closer to myself. "_What is that?_"

"Dementors." She is aware of this, she was expecting it, but still she shivers involuntarily.

As we get closer to the town, the gloom and chill becomes heavier and thicker, defying the strong summery feeling. Hermione's skin is now white and clammy, and her fingers have even begun trembling. We haven't spotted any of the vile guards of Azkaban yet, but I can feel them close by. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull Hermione into my side and wrap my jacket around her, rubbing her arms to keep her warm. She seems more affected by the fog than I am.

"Here," I say when I spot a homey-looking coffee shop. The Muggles in it look lively and carefree, if not slightly shaken. I push against its double doors and lead Hermione into it. "A table for two, please," I tell the waiter who spots us.

After a few minutes, a table clears out and we take our seats at it. Two big potted plants hide us from the rest of the caffeine addicts. I'm afraid the waiter got the wrong idea from the two of us.

"You okay?" I ask Hermione.

She nods, even gives me a feeble smile. It looks weird on the face of a brown haired, bespectacled girl. I want her red hair and freckles back.

"Your orders, madam and sir?"

Hermione asks for a vanilla latte, and I tell the waiter to make that _two_ vanilla lattes. When the waiter leaves, I tell Hermione sheepishly that the only coffees I've ever tried were of the plain kind.

"Not a huge fan of Muggle food?" she queries, her eyes bright and wide.

"No, not really."

"I bet you haven't even _heard_ of a hotdog. There used to be a hotdog stand down the street – I'll take you there after coffee."

I ponder the information. "So you've been here before?"

"I, uh, I used to live here." She suddenly looks scared.

"Don't worry!" I rush in, assuring her. "Your secret is safe with me. I promise."

"There's nothing to keep secret," she says slowly. "My parents are… away."

"Oh, cool." There's a beat of silence, but I'm too distracted by this sudden introduction into little Hermione's world to be bothered by her awkwardness. "Did you go to school here, too, before coming to Hogwarts?"

"I did. The school I attended is just beyond the hotdog stand. We could…revisit, if you'd like that."

"That would be great!" I try dimming my smile down a notch. "I mean, that would be nice. Cool."

"Yeah," she laughs, rolling her eyes at me. "Cool."

* * *

**Na'aw. R&R for Draco/Herm fluff! Important things happen today and tomorrow to the two of them, review to find out c;**

**Kristopher.**


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